


The Thing About Love

by neverending_shenanigans



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternative Timeline, F/M, Ignores the Cursed Child, No Fleur Bashing, Past Bill Weasley/Fleur Delacour - Freeform, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, i like both as characters i promise, ignores the epilogue, no ron bashing, set many years after book 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2019-05-24 06:01:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14948921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverending_shenanigans/pseuds/neverending_shenanigans
Summary: Here’s the thing:  you never notice when you start falling out of love. It’s not something that you observe and think to yourself ‘oops, there it goes, today I love him a little less.’ It’s not something that you can fix either. Often, when you notice it, it’s already too late.





	The Thing About Love

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure – this is a sort of re-write of a german one shot thing (it was actually a series of drabbles, but who cares) in 2008-2009ish. Almost everything I wrote in that time was lost, but recent conversations with @dresupi made me remember my harry potter multishipping days, and so I tried to recreate this one to my best abilities. For now the important part to know is only three things.
> 
> One: I don’t remember the details as well as I used to. I used to write very canon-compliant, even in my crack ships, but this one – not so much. I have most likely broken timelines here.
> 
> Two: I adore(d) Fleur and to ship Bill and Hermione was never a slight against her and I just want to stress this. I ship Bill x Fleur just as much. And while I don’t particularly adore Ron, it’s also not meant to slight him.

Here’s the thing:  you never notice when you start falling out of love. It’s not something that you observe and think to yourself _'oops, there it goes, today I love him a little less_.’ It’s not something that you can fix either. Often, when you notice it, it’s already too late.

If someone would have asked her how she noticed, Hermione would have either been left speechless, or she would have lied on the spot. It was too cruel a moment to tell anyone. When she thought that the woman laughing loudly at the other end of the café had a laugh just like Lavender Brown; When she sat there, staring at the blonde, and for a moment couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person Lavender would be today. If she could have been saved from Fenrir Greyback, would she still laugh as loud, still hate her, or would she possibly be happier with Ron.

And it was that last part that had her reeling back from her own thoughts, more in surprise than anything else. The shame and disgust at herself had come later, when she had found herself repeating the thoughts to herself when she and Ron met up for lunch.

It had been like a snowball, that thought. It had kept rolling in her mind, gaining momentum and growing bigger. The more she had thought about it, the more other little thoughts had stuck to it. When had she stopped finding Ron’s terrible table manners somewhat adorable? When had it stopped that Ron’s simple presence made her smile? When had their regular lunch dates between their different schedules become so hard to squeeze in that she felt bothered to make room for them?

She had, initially, tried to chalk it up as the maturing of their relationship. They were a married couple now, and nobody could honestly expect that they’d forever be “in love”. They weren’t teenagers anymore, and of course the excitement would subside and be replaced by … by something different. But no matter how careful her evaluation, when she was lying in bed awake next to him, she couldn’t for the life of her come up with  _what_  exactly had replaced that love.

Then again, she also had never been able to tell when exactly she had fallen in love with Ron either. She had always told herself that their love was more than just a naïve first love because it had grown so slowly in the first place. They had been friends for years before the love came, and it had been something that she had been proud of. But at this moment it had contradicted the stories she had told herself at night to sooth her erratic thoughts. If theirs had never been a fickle teenage love, why did that love have to be replaced then? Shouldn’t it just have grown stronger?

 

* * *

The thing was, though, that nobody asked Hermione when she had known that she didn’t love Ron anymore. And that was maybe even worse. Because it seemed that people assumed that she had either never loved Ron in the first place, or that it should be obvious. Or that they just didn’t bother to ask her because it was not worth the trouble.

Mrs. Weasley – because by now she probably had lost the right to call her Molly – had exclaimed that surely  _that_ was the reason that Hermione had vehemently refused to take Ron’s name in the first place. She could never did feel like a  _real_ Weasley anyway. Nevermind that Harry had never adopted the name Weasley either and had always been a son to her. But Hermione had not expected differently. Mrs. Weasley had always been protective of her children and had always lashed out against people who hurt them. If Hermione was lucky, in a couple of years she might start receiving Christmas cards again.

It surprised her, though, that Ginny apparently shared some of her mother’s sentiments. She was obviously conflicted, because Harry was still Hermione’s best friend, and would continue to be so even after the divorce. And Ron was her brother, after all. She could not break with Hermione entirely, and could not treat her the same way that she had always treated Fleur.

So Ginny was … distant. Polite, but wary. And with a bit of a forced smile she offered, that they had been married for four years and Hermione had still cringed when anyone brought up children – that should have clued in  _anyone_ , right? Nevermind that Bill and Fleur had been married for six years before Fleur had had her first child. But then again, that would not have made a good argument in her case in Ginny’s eyes either.

Arthur and Percy were careful not to offer any opinion on it, and so was Harry. From the former two she had not expected any different, to be perfectly honest. From Harry she had not know what to expect. He let her know that he was her friend as much as Ron’s, and this wouldn’t change that, but otherwise he chose to remain silent on the topic.

Fred joked about it, because that was what he always did. He had always known that his baby brother must have put a charm on Hermione to fool her into marrying him in the first place, he had said, and that was that. He had offered Hermione to help her find a new place to live, and – surprisingly thoughtfully – made sure that she knew that he didn’t hold it against her that she had broken his little brother’s heart. But he, too, seemed to think that they had possibly never been a really good match to begin with.

To Hermione’s own utter despair she still thought differently. At one point, they had been a good match, and it hurt to know that she apparently was the only one who thought so. The fact that she didn’t love him now didn’t mean that she never had loved him at all. Was only love that lasted real?

 

 

* * *

 

The odd thing was, though, that nobody had seemed to notice that Ron’s heart might not have been as broken as everyone took for granted. Or nobody except Harry, maybe. Hermione couldn’t be too sure about that.

Ron had been surprised, yes. And for a little while, he had been angry even. He had felt insulted, for sure. But it hadn’t lasted very long. And after a … a loud and verbal discussion… a trantrum? After that he had stared at her, and there had been no confusion in his eyes. There had been a reluctant disappointment and maybe shame on his part. Maybe as much shame as she had had felt thinking of Lavender Brown.

He had asked her for a reason, of course. He had asked her if there was anybody else that she fancied. But louder, in hindsight, were the questions he had not asked. Was there a way to fix it? Did she want to try and fix it? And since when had this started? Why had she not talked to him before it was too late? He never asked those questions.

And that, in turn, had begged one questions of her, a year later, when they had been standing awkwardly in the kitchen at Ginny’s second baby shower: Had Ron been as unhappy with their marriage as she had been? He had never replied to it.

 

* * *

 

The smart thing, and maybe the polite thing, would have been not to go to 12 Grimmauld Place for Christmas. Yes, it had been as much Harry’s Christmas Party as Ginny’s, and Harry considered her family, but the truth of the matter was that the majority of Harry’s family by marriage was Weasley, and she had divorced one of them.

She had not had attended the last two Christmas Celebrations at the Burrow, and would have happily missed that one, too. But Harry had been adamant. “It’s been long enough, Hermione. Ron and Padma have been together for almost a year now, and you know that Parvati likes you. You work in the same Department in the Ministry every day. What in the world could make you prefer to be alone on Christmas?”

The problem, however, had never been Ron for her. She and Ron had been a little awkward around each other for a year, yes, but that had subsided into a tentative politeness, maybe even a sort of kindness. And Parvati had specifically marched to her office to inform her that Hermione shouldn’t dare to avoid her just because she and Ron had started dating. They had never been overly  _close_ , in their time in Gryffindor, but there was no point in being strangers now. She’d rather they’d be friends.

When Hermione had pulled herself together and had come to Grimmauld’s place, with a charmed bag full of presents for everyone, she had been face to face with the person she had  _really_  wanted to avoid – Molly Weasley. A burnt child dreads the fire, and Molly had time and time again proven that she was not above cutting people out of her life that had hurt her children. Hermione had remembered.

But it had not gone entirely as expected. Granted, she had not been greeted with a hug, or a smile, nor did she receive a sweater. But there had been no outright vitriol, if one disregarded the fact that Molly once pointedly remarked in Hermione’s general direction how  _happy_  Ron was with the lovely Parvati. Such a  _spirited_  girl was just what Ron needed, and they were already talking about kids.

It had been Bill, to whom Molly had remarked this thinly veiled comment in Hermione’s direction. So  _thinly_  veiled that Bill had noticed it, of course. He had had seated himself at the other end of the couch, where she had been busily pretended to read, to give herself some time to adjust to all the people, and try and let the awkwardness subside.

He had smiled, tired and somewhat amused, and had winked at Hermione, when he had noticed her looking up from her book, before he had replied that surely she didn’t need any more grandchildren as it was? Or was that a quip at his situation? Because if so, he regretted to have to inform her that Fleur was happily remarried now, and a half-sibling for Victoire was on its way, from what he had heard.  But he could set to produce more if she wanted it so badly right this minute.

Molly had blushed, and swatted at his arm, and made herself busy in the kitchen again. Hermione had not been immediately able to go back to pretend-reading her book.

Was it strange, that she had almost forgotten that there had been another divorce in the Weasley family before hers? She had never forgotten how Molly had treated Fleur, of course, even though Bill had stressed that he had been the one who had ended things. But strangely, she had forgotten about Bill himself. Who had also been somewhat absent from the family ever since then.

He had smiled at her then, again, and tilted his head a bit. “How is it?”

Hermione had taken her time to reply, looking around the room, at the people talking and laughing; at Ron and Parvati feeding each other plum pudding; at Harry having a somewhat serious discussion with Teddy about Quidditch, and the very pregnant Ginny chatting with an equally pregnant Luna and a slightly tipsy Angelina. She looked at George playing with Fred II and Lorcan, and Arthur dozing in the arm chair next to the tree, as four year old James tried to show a two year Albus how to tie Arthur’s show laces together. Rolf, Molly and Audrey could be heard discussing something in the kitchen. And Percy, Charley, Little Molly and Lucy were probably still outside, playing with the toy dragons that Charley got the two girls.

“I’ve felt guilty and lonely, mostly, for the past years. I still think it was the right choice – the divorce, I mean – but it wasn’t an easy one. So I didn’t expect to get to see everyone again, and ….  it is a bit awkward, but think I’m going to be fine.” She had looked back at Bill, carefully. He still wore his hair long, and he still had his scars. He even still wore the same earing that he had always worn. If not for the beard that he had grown, he wouldn’t have looked aged that much. How old had he been? 35? 38? “And you?”

His eyebrows had wandered up a bit, at her words, and then they had drawn together in contemplation. For a moment, he hadn’t replied. “I  _meant_  to ask how the book is,” he had said very slowly, as if measuring his words. “But I  _should_  have probably asked how you feel about this, so thanks for covering for my blunder.”

Hermione had felt herself blushing, because the blunder had been entirely hers there. She had assumed that he had meant to talk about the divorce, because that had been the one reason she could have imagined that Bill had wanted to talk to her. She had just thrown them together in that “divorced”-boxed in her mind.

She had never talked that much with Bill, or with Charley. Neither had been around that much when she had visited the Weasley family in the past. The first time she had really spoken to Bill – not just greeting or good mornings - had been in Christmas 1995, in this very place. And the last time she had really spoken Bill had been the Christmas after his divorce, in 2002, and it had been about that very same divorce.

“And to give you a reply – I guess I am fine, too. My divorce was 6 years ago, very amiable, and I imagine altogether less complicated than your situation. I still frequently visit Fleur in France, and I did that from directly after the divorce. This is your first real visit with the family in … three or four years? I really should have asked how you are holding up, ” and, after a pause, he added “has anybody asked you that yet?”

“Harry has,” she had replied, and for a while they had simply talked about how his life was. How he handled seeing the fact that his daughter lived in France, and if he was happy with his job. If Hermione was happy with her job, and how she had handled seeing any one with red hair in the last couple of years. The later had been a joke of his, and there had been several more jokes; about his mother’s anger over the fact that Victoire would go to Beauxbatons and not Hogwarts, about a very crude article in the Daily Prophet on the ‘break up’ of the Golden Trio, about an equally insulting article on men who grew their hair out ‘past a certain age’, and other nonsense.

Hermione hadn’t be able to remember the last time she had laughed so much.

 

* * *

 

Here’s the thing:  you never notice when you fall in love. Hermione had never been able to pinpoint one exact moment when she had fallen in love with Ron, and now she wasn’t able to pinpoint one exact moment when she had fallen in love with Bill.

Maybe it had started at the Christmas party in 2008. It was entirely possible. Maybe it had started some time after that, when she had run into Bill at the Ministry – he had been there about some curse – and they had had lunch together. Or at the meet-ups for coffee in the year after that. Or that time he had accompanied her to the library, to help her carry back the mountains of books she had ordered. Or that time when she had dropped off a book he had expressed interest in at his place and he had invited her into join him in watching an old muggle movie.

The point is, the exact moment when you fall in love – or when you fall out of love, for that matter – isn’t that important. Neither is, mostly, the ‘Why’ of it.

Of course, there were reasons that she could give. The way that he talked with her, like an equal. The way that he held himself and the crooked grin of his when he riled her up. The way that he remained calm even when she was seething inside at some minor matter, and was able to bring her down, too. The way that he actually took interest in the things she was passionate about. The way he was entirely willing and able to get into the things she liked and be just as passionate about them. The way he invited her into his life, and share his passions, too. The way that he looked at her, and the way that his touch lingered for a moment, when he brushed her hair out of her face.

These were all good and true reasons. But in the end, Hermione had to accept that reason did not exactly apply in this specific area. There had not been one specific reason why she had stopped loving Ron, if one could ever stop entirely to love. There had been not one specific reason why she had started loving Bill. And it had been reasonable to love Ron. And it was unreasonable to love Bill.

Just as she had felt guilty and ashamed when she had finally noticed that she didn’t love Ron anymore, she felt guilty and ashamed when she finally noticed that she had started loving his oldest brother, somewhere along the way.

But the thing was, reason did not apply. What other people said, thought or asked about it did not matter. She could not beat herself up over it, or deny it just to spare others. What was important was that there was no doubt about the fact that she did, in fact, love Bill Weasly, and that she was also sure that he felt the same way about her. Nothing could have prepared her for that, and nothing could have made her happier. And that’s just the thing about love, isn’t it?

**Author's Note:**

> The “original” story was a series of 100 drabbles, and it had the illustrious german title “Eine Sache für sich” (That’s another story, is the English idiom for that, I believe). It was also a piece of spite-writing, because that ship was frowned upon in the german fanfiction circles I was in. As were pretty much all of my crack ships at the time, among them this ship. And I am pretty sure I only started to write this story because I got a really rude comment on my Charlie X Hermione ship about the ludicrous age difference and how wrong it is to pair Hermione with any other Weasley but Ron. So not much changed in the spire-writing department.
> 
> It got lost when my computer crashed, because I pretty much never backed anything up in those days. And this is mostly me writing from memory how the story line went. In the original I think I fleshed out their life together a little bit more – I distinctly remember another Christmas, where it’s Ginny who notices them ‘secretly’ holding hands and there’s a “big reveal”, and another Christmas after that where Molly get’s over herself and smiles at Hermione for the first time since the divorce. But I couldn’t really figure out how to squeeze that in here, and since I only had two hours of studying breaks to write this… *shrugs*


End file.
